Andrew Collins grew up in the 1970s. His parents never split up, in fact they rarely exchanged a cross word. No one abused him. Nobody died. He got on well with his brother and sister and none of his friends drowned in the canal. He has never stayed overnight in a hospital and has no emotional scars from his upbringing, except a slight lingering resentment that Anita Barker once mocked the stabilizers on his bike. In this autobiography, Andrew delves back into his first 18 years in search of something - anything - that might have left him deeply and irreparably damaged. With tales of bikes, telly, sweets, good health, domestic harmony and happy holidays, he aims to bring a little hope to all those out there living with the emotional after-effects of a really nice childhood. Andrew kept a diary from the age of five, so he really can remember what he had for tea everyday and what he did at school. Excerpts from his diary run throughout the book.
